


Convince Me

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Pregnancy Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, more like fragging to get knocked up but what do i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: Wheeljack wants to have a sparkling. Ultra Magnus issues a challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

Wheeljack’s systems had been running on a low hum for the past few cycles, and Ultra Magnus was struggling to figure out why.

Previous experiences during his time living with his bonded told him that this could be the result of two scenarios: either Wheeljack was coming down with a systems infection, or he was angry at something. Though, if Wheeljack were coming down with an infection… he would be a sparkling about it, even if all that was happening would have been cured with a simple visit to Ratchet and a flurry of needles that Wheeljack hated. More than likely, Ultra’s tactical processor drew as a conclusion, it was the latter reason.

So far as Ultra could tell as he looked back on his interactions with the other mech this solar cycle, he’d done nothing to upset Wheeljack. To his recollection, Wheeljack had always been happy to make certain that the berth was made and that their energon cubes were washed, dried, and stored away, and while he sometimes grumbled about it, was more than happy to help him clean the seams of his back armor.

But, as he’d come to know, they functioned on entirely different wavelengths, and only communication attempts on each of their parts would be successful in smoothing this entire thing over.

Ultra cleared his vocalizer, and Wheeljack turned around to face him, dimming his optics as he did so. 

“Wheeljack, your engine is making some noise. Are you having a systems malfunction?”

An abashed expression came over the smaller Wrecker’s faceplates and he heard something that sounded like him muttering, “You’re having a systems malfunction.”

“I will be happy to play back a recording of the noise you’re making, if that will convince you that I’m not the one suffering it.”

For the briefest moment Wheeljack’s optics widened and his engine stopped working, and then the noise resumed but at the lower volume that was a constant in their household. “Sorry. Didn’t realize.”

“Is there something bothering you?”

“Nah. Nothin’.”

A beat of silence. And then Ultra leveled a flat look at the smaller-statured Wrecker. “You know you’re terrible at lying to me.’

“Ah,” Wheeljack said, the winglets sticking out of his backplates twitching, “y’know Smokescreen and ‘bee fall for my tricks most of the time.”

“I did specify that you are terrible at lying to me. I know your tell, as does Bulkhead: the corners of your lipplates. So if you are not coming down with a systems malfunction,” Ultra said as he drew closer to the white-armored mech, “then dare I ask… what did I do to upset you?”

The expression on Wheeljack’s faceplates gave him the answer. Nothing.

“You think I got upset with you?”

Ultra said nothing, merely staring down at his mate and giving a very minute nod of his helm.

“No, not upset with you Mags, not at all”

“Then was it something that you encountered when you were out today?”

“Nah, just…” Wheeljack trailed off and then sighed a few moments later. His star-patterned optics focused on a flat part of Ultra’s chassis as he drew him closer, an arm wrapping around the bigger bot’s waist, his digits skipping over the armor and drawing freeform shapes. “Nothin’ major. I just saw a coupla bots out and about. Saw one carryin’, pretty heavy. Looked like they were gonna drop the bitlet right there,” he chuckled to himself. It just…” he stopped drawing his shapes and looked Ultra in his optics, “it did somethin’ to me, Mags.”

Though part of him knew what was coming, Ultra found himself still slightly taken aback when Wheeljack spoke his next six words: “I was wonderin’ about havin’ one.”

A beat of silence followed, and then Ultra blinked his optics and cleared his vocalizer as quickly as he could manage. His processor, having stalled, rebooted and allowed him to speak. “Wheeljack-”

“But I know it’s your decision. I can’t carry either way, you’re the only one who could, but if you don’t want-”

“No, Wheeljack,” Ultra gave a shake of his helm and then lifted one of his servos to stroke the closest of Wheeljack’s helm fins, “I’m actually very glad you’re telling me this. I was under the impression that I had done something to upset you.”

“Why would you think that? I’d tell you.”

“In a normal case, your systems don’t begin to hum in that manner until you initiate interface, which is why I was concerned that you were either ill or that I had done something to upset you.” Ultra smiled, leaned down a little bit, and kissed the other mech, spark blooming and his interface systems coming online slowly as Wheeljack nuzzled back and nipped at his lipplates. “I am relieved that it is the opposite.”

Wheeljack chuckled and pressed his forehelm against Ultra’s. “Nah. I’d make it pretty clear if I got mad at you. So,” his voice lowered in tone and he looked up at the taller mech from under half-closed optic covers, “would you think about it?”

Ultra drew a deep in-vent, chassis expanding slightly before he ex-vented. He closed and then reopened his optics. “I will consider it.” A salacious smirk came over his faceplates before he could stop himself as his own systems began their own hum, just a little bit higher in volume than the usual. “But you will have to continue attempting to convince me.”

In response, Wheeljack pressed back frantically, lipplates crashing with such fervor into Ultra’s that the Wrecker Commander was half-convinced that there would be a permanent imprint. He let himself laugh and be led to the berthroom, door that separated it and the living area left open when he preferred to close it (much to Wheeljack’s annoyance). 

Wheeljack was small in stature but he knew how to throw his weight around and use it to his advantage, as Ultra had come to know. He let himself be pressed onto the berth, against the many cushions, and wrapped his arms around Wheeljack’s shoulders and stroked his digits along the winglets as their kisses became more frantic and deepened. Neither was in a mood to cease, their systems working up, frames warming, their moans quiet.

One of them whispered that they loved the other. Ultra wasn’t sure if it was him, or Wheeljack. No matter - it was true either way.

When they pulled apart after a few kliks, Ultra’s spark was pulsing frantically and the neural net spread throughout his frame tingled with excitement. He then became aware of the heavy weight on his chassis and looked down to see Wheeljack with a contemplative expression on his faceplates. He raised a servo again, and stroked down the length of Wheeljack’s face with the backs of two of his digits.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured.

Those deep blue optics brightened. “Thinkin’ about how Primus-damned gorgeous you’d look, heavy with our sparkling,’ the smaller-sized mech purred, the tone of his voice and words and the tips of Wheeljack’s digits stroking over his middle sending little shocks up Ultra’s spinal strut. “Don’t think I’d be able to keep my servos off you.” He let his digits trail down the length of Ultra’s middle, headed towards his pelvic plating.

Ultra arched his hips into Wheeljack’s touch, his vents huffing and hissing as he curled his digits into the palm of his servo. Electric surges permeated through his frame, making cables in his thighs twitch the more that Wheeljack rubbed at his joints and the panel covering his interface array. He let himself chuckle a little bit. “You’re hardly able to keep your servos off of me in my current state. Is permanently affixing yourself to me an option you’ve considered?

“Already did that, chief,” Wheeljack said with a laugh, rapping his digits over his chassis. “That’s the point of sparkbondin’.”

“Your point is noted then,” Ultra laughed as well. He laid back even more, pulling Wheeljack up slightly (prompting a small yelp from the shorter mech) so he was closer to his helm. Kissing Wheeljack deeply, he whispered, “Tell me what you would do to me.” At that, he head the sound of Wheeljack’s back armor flaring open a few micrometers and a slight hiss of his vents. “Don’t spare the details.”

Wheeljack leaned forward and kissed his lipplates, rubbing their forehelms together. “Love your enthusiasm.” Then he traveled back to where he, and Ultra watched him intently as he kissed his way down, sighing and rubbing the nearest of the other mech’s helm fins. His engine now purred as he held back moans, closing his optics, rolling his helm and arching it into the mesh pillows. The other mech’s deft digits rubbed at the seams of his panel, his pleasure systems coming. Parting his thighs even more, Ultra reopened his optics and looked at his mate from underneath his hooded optics. 

“I’ve always been more ‘bout showin’ than tellin’.” Wheeljack insistently rubbed his thumb in a circle over Ultra’s interface panel. “Open up, need to see how ready you are to take me on.”

Ultra knew a challenge when he was issued one. He sent the command for his panel to open, and and shivered slightly when cooled air passed over his slickening folds. Then the tips of Wheeljack’s digits met them, and he almost curled his pedes. 

“Slag, you’re so wet Mags,” Wheeljack whispered as he stroked his digits over the plump and slick valve folds. He probed between the folds, first the top of one digit and then a second one, and pushed forward. “You’re more than ready.”

Wriggling his hips a little bit, Ultra closed his servos into fists and laid them at his sides. “This talk has done something to me as well.”

“Good.” A faint clicking noise, barely heard over the sound of both of their systems humming, reached Ultra’s audio receptors and then he saw Wheeljack’s spike extend, felt it bump against the rim of his valve. The sight and light touch ignited the basest part of his coding that sought pleasure, something he’d repressed for so long during the war, but was now learning to let run.

Wheeljack pushed in, his vents flaring open and the sound of his own engine increasing in volume. Ultra gasped quietly and tugged Wheeljack a little more forward, their arrays flush with one another. His anterior node brushed against the other mech’s array, sending electric shivers and shocks up and down his core.

“Frag,” Wheeljack gasped, his vents stuttering. “Frag, that’s good.” He drew out, lubricant clinging to his length. “Primus, Mags, gonna keep fraggin’ and fraggin’ you,” he moved his hips and swept a servo over the lower expanse of Ultra’s belly, “‘til your plating here starts curvin’. Frag you ‘til you can’t walk without feelin’ my fluid sloshing in you. Then there'd be no way you wouldn't get sparked, start feelin’ a bitlet stirring inside you.”

Something came over Ultra, and he smirked, meeting Wheeljack’s movements as he kept their arrays connected as closely as possible. Wheeljack’s faceplates shifted, his optics dimming and his mouth falling open as he choked. “Then do it, soldier,” he purred softly. He moved again and pulled Wheeljack as close to him as he could. “I need your transfluid in me, now.”

Wheeljack’s optics widened slightly, and he picked up speed, lubricant slicking the way. Ultra flexed the calipers in his valve, ripping along the length of Wheeljack’s spike, internally mirthful at the intense reactions he was getting out of the other Wrecker. The drop his mouth, the gasps and groans, muttered curses of how he was so beautiful and how he drive him crazy in more ways than just one.

Ultra laid back and then let himself feel, pant with each thrust and slide of Wheeljack’s spike against all of his nodes. The charge in his interface array lingered, increasing at a rate that was far too slow for his liking, going at the same steady pace that Wheeljack was slamming into his valve.

He need more. He needed it more intense, harder.

“H-harder,” Ultra gasped as the tips of his digits carved deep gouges in Wheeljack’s shoulder plating, “ _ harder _ . I want my ancestral line to feel your spike ramming into me, frag you.”

Wheeljack’s engine gave a loud roar, the smaller-sized Wrecker pressing more of his weight against his old commander and mate’s frame. A feral expression came over his roguish faceplates, and before Ultra could do more other than look on with a questioning expression, he gasped as Wheeljack pulled out and then slammed back in in quick succession. He hitched Ultra’s legs further up his waist and secured his grip, to an extent that Ultra thought his digits and palm would leave their imprints.  

“Primus, I’m not gonna last, but frag,” Wheeljack rasped, his optics now so bright they were a shade between a light blue and the purest shade of white, more luminous than his armor, “frag, I want you to have our sparklin’ so bad, Mags.” He shook his helm and leaned forward, planting kisses on the bigger mech’s chassis, over his spark chamber. “Want to see you get round and soft, know that I did that, and that our sparklin’ is goin’ to amaze you. You’d look so beautiful and perfect, tall and gorgeous, our sparklin’ growing in your chamber.”

Keeping Wheeljack close, rippling his valve, Ultra moaned with every thrust of the other mech. His processor spun but latched onto Wheeljack’s voice as he continued babbling, “I hope our sparklin’ takes after you. They’re gonna be so beautiful and perfect, and you’ll be such a great carrier to ‘em.”

How Ultra wanted to reply back, tell Wheeljack that their sparkling would be perfect whatever way they came out and that he would be an amazing sire to them, but at the point they were at, he was beyond words. He simply responded by reaching along their sparkbond, pouring all his love and desire and communicating what his words could not to the other mech, and found Wheeljack responding in kind.

Suddenly, the other mech went still and grunted. Ultra’s intakes hitched slightly, closing his optics and letting himself feel the surge of Wheeljack’s transfluid into his gestation chamber as if it were the very first time it’d ever happened. Indeed, it was the first time this was with a purpose, instead of his frame eventually absorbing the fluid into his systems.

New life. He had briefly entertained the thought of carriage as a youngling himself, but with the war newly over and a semblance of peace, however shaky, reinstated… there was no harm in conceiving and bearing a newspark.

And after eons alone, he’d been lucky enough to have found someone to share his life cycle with. Someone whom he would be honored to bear offspring for and care for said offspring with.

His processor made up with absolute conviction, Ultra parted his chest plates, illuminating the dimmed berthroom with the brilliance and shine of his blue spark.

“You’re sure?” Wheeljack somehow managed to ask, even as he continued thrusting once more through the small shocks and tremors of his first overload, his winglets twitching and flaring.

_ I'm sure, as I was when I bonded with you,  _ Ultra wanted to say, but words failed him as charge crackled through his frame again, finally bringing him closer to his first overload. Again, he reached with his bond and told Wheeljack in as much emotion as he could muster that he was so sure.

Wheeljack responded by quickening his pace, grunting, optics flaring, and emotions that all amounted to  _ I love you. _

“In me, hurry,” Ultra panted as he could feel the very quick, faint pulses and twitches of Wheeljack’s spike along the sensors of his valve, the signals that another overload was coming. “Then merge with me.”

The other mech’s hips picked up speed, hammering into him again, and then the white-armored mech spilled yet another load into him. Somehow Wheeljack managed to overcome the high of overload to scramble up Ultra’s frame and part his own chestplates, his spark glowing and pulsing furiously.

The merge was desperate but loving as it always was, Ultra winding his arms around his mate’s back and holding him close as their life forces mingled. Their minds echoed one another, love and admiration and hope stuck in a feedback loop that Ultra was in absolutely no hurry to try and rectify.

Wheeljack gasped and leaned forward, sloppily pressing his lipplates against Ultra’s, who responded in kind. Their height made it fairly difficult to connect their arrays once more, but that didn’t stop Wheeljack from rutting against the plates of Ultra’s middle, nor did it make it difficult for Ultra to unwind one arm from Wheeljack and rub his anterior node with his digits.

He threw his helm back, gasping as he tugged at the little bundle of sensors and smeared his digits with lubricant, and Wheeljack all but attacked the cables of his neck, suckling on them, driving Ultra further to the edge.

_ ::Let it go, chief::  _ Wheeljack’s roguish voice filtered into his mind. 

Another swipe of his thumb over his anterior node, and Ultra’s vision tunneled and his back bowed, gasping and faintly aware of Wheeljack grunting as he overloaded as well. When he rode out the waves of ecstasy, Ultra collapsed back onto berth, vents flared open and expelling built-up heat to regulate his frame’s temperature. He grunted as well when Wheeljack fell onto him, but found himself unable to care much in the afterglow.

Ultra wriggled his hips and arched his neck, pressing his helm into the mesh pillows, trying to ignore the pooling of lubricant and transfluids leaking out of his valve.

Bright, star-patterned optics stared at him in awe, and when he was able to reorient himself, he smiled and kissed Wheeljack on his helm crest.

.-.-.

“Did it take?”

Ultra shook his helm. “Unfortunately not. As far as Ratchet can tell, I did not miscarry either. It just seems the timing may not have been proper.”

Wheeljack studied his sparkmate’s faceplates, searching for any emotions that Ultra’s rather flat voice hid fairly well enough. He nodded a little bit and twitched his helm fins. “Are you disappointed?”

The other mech’s shoulder struts dropped a little, and Wheeljack found himself at least a little bit elated that Ultra Magnus really was in this for the long haul. “I am disappointed. I won’t deny it. Before it was confirmed that nothing came of our joining, I had myself convinced that it wouldn’t be… as you say, a big deal.” He pursed his lipplates. “Ratchet saying that there was no spark in my chamber did affect me a little more than I expected.”

Contrary to Ultra’s almost infinite supply of stoicism, Wheeljack had never been as readily able to hide his emotions. He sighed in relief, and Ultra gave him a confused glance. “Did you not want this after all? Was this a fantasy of yours?”

“What? No! I was just,” Wheeljack reached behind his neck and rubbed at the cables there, “I kinda put all that on you suddenly, wasn’t really sure if you’d be receptive. Thought you might’ve just been humorin’ me.”

A thoughtful look came over Ultra’s faceplates before he closed the distance between them and sat next to Wheeljack on the long seat, placing one of his servos over the smaller mech’s. “At first I was. But the more I thought on this, the more I realized that I had been denying myself this entire time. I do want a sparkling, and,” he moved the servo to stroke at Wheeljack’s face, and the smaller Wrecker had trouble resisting the gentle touches as he all but melted into it, “there is no one I would rather embark on this with than you, Wheeljack.”

Of all the ridiculous grins he’d ever given in his life cycle, Wheeljack knew that the one he was making at that moment probably topped them all. He grabbed the servo stroking his face and kissed each digit on Ultra’s hand, purring quietly.

“You’re the only mech I’d love to knock up, Mags.” 

Ultra made a noise like a snort. “Ever blunt, as usual.”

“Hey, it’s how you like me. Knew what you were signin’ on for when we bonded,” Wheeljack said, winking an optic and leaning up for a peck on Ultra’s faceplates. “So, now?”

A bit of hesitation came over the other mech. “I would like to take a few cycles to recharge, Wheeljack. It has been a bit of an exhausting solar cycle for my emotions. But,” he said, with a small smile, “I’ll be happy to resume our project.”

The winglets on his back armor fluttered as Ultra stood up and walked out of the common room into their berthroom. Wheeljack waited a few kliks to quell his engine, and then followed.

.-.-.

A weight settled on his lower pelvic region and thighs, prompting Wheeljack to open his optics against his restful recharge and look for the cause. He then smiled at Ultra, who was busy coaxing his interface panel to open and whose engine was humming in a low tone. Their pelvic plating touched, and the white-armored mech could feel the heat behind the other mech’s panel.

“Ready to try again?” Wheeljack asked quietly, running the tips of his digits over the expanse of Ultra’s midsection. He released the lock on his own panel, allowing his spike to extend and jut upwards.

There was a look of ferality in Ultra’s optics as he opened his own panel and wasted no time in sinking down on the thick, ridged spike. He moaned quietly, the sound shooting straight up Wheeljack’s spinal strut as he rolled his own hips and savored the very hot and very wet heat encasing him.

“If it takes all night cycle,” Ultra said quietly, his optics bright and his vents flaring open, “I won’t leave this berth until I’m sure I’ve conceived.”

Wheeljack smirked up at him. He was ready to take that challenge on as he gripped Ultra’s hips and thrust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to add except that I love Ultrajack and I love sparklings. Eyyyyyy


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _*In my best John Mulaney voice:*_ I meant to write this for months, and then I _forgot_.
> 
> This end result is just some fluffy bits as we follow those two Wrecker jerks through a carrying cycle. The original plan was for something angsty, but then I figured a bit of sap would soothe the soul. I hope you readers enjoy this fluff~

“Come on,” Ultra gasped as he held onto Wheeljack with the bits of strength he could muster after three overloads. He pecked the other mech on the nearest of his helm fins with his lipplates and shifted the angle of his hips. “In me.”

Wheeljack panted and thrust, further exacerbating the scrapes and paint transfers between their armor. “Where the frag else have I been spillin’ my loads?” he said, tone joking, his optics bright. He rolled his hips against Ultra’s array, and the larger mech gasped as Wheeljack continued, “I think you’d court-martial me if I spilled somewhere else, chief.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ultra admitted, rearing up and supporting himself on his forearms as he goaded Wheeljack further, clenched the calipers of his valve around the rigid length. “The time used in arranging a court-martial,” he groaned when the other mech’s thick spike hit a particularly sensitive node, “would be far better used in this endeavour.”

Ultra could almost feel how Wheeljack had to suppress a roll of his optics. He pushed his hips down, meeting Wheeljack’s thrusts, and rippled his calipers, trying his best to suppress the smirk that threatened to cross his faceplates.

The look of absolute need and desire was back on the other mech’s face as he sped up his tempo, gasping, the winglets on his back twitching as Ultra grabbed at them and stroked along their edges.

“In me, hurry,” Ultra whispered, arching his hips and lowering one of his servos to rub at his anterior node, tugging at it as he stroked over the center of his chassis. “Or I may consider the court martial.”

Empty the threat definitely was, but Ultra could see that Wheeljack took it to spark, and the threat of a court martial that Ultra wasn’t even entirely sure he was in power to convene got Wheeljack to hitch his legs further up his waist. The smaller-statured Wrecker grunted and then his thrusts became more languid as overload crested, and Ultra could feel the flood of transfluid into his valve. He tilted his hips up and tightened the grip that his legs had on Wheeljack, rolling against the other mech’s array as he all but milked the smaller mech of all the transfluid he could give.

After a few more moments, Wheeljack sagged onto Ultra’s frame with his engines overworked and his vents flared open as his systems expelled the pent-up heat. Ultra had yet to overload, but a few of his digits rubbing at his anterior node coaxed it out, and he moaned quietly as the calipers in his valve spasmed and held onto his mate’s unit with a firm grip.

Wheeljack’s servos pawed almost pathetically at the seam in the center of Ultra’s chassis. Managing to regain control after the rush of overload, Ultra smiled and gently moved the servos away. “There’s no need for the spark merge,” he said quietly, own optics brightening as he looked at Wheeljack. “And in fact, it would not be advisable.”

It took a couple of moments for the words to register in Wheeljack’s processor, but Ultra would never forget the expression that crossed the other bot’s faceplates when the full impact hit. Wheeljack’s winglets stiffened and lifted into the air, his mouth dropping open in shock and awe.

“You’re sparked?!”

“I am. Ratchet confirmed it this solar cycle.” He splayed one of his servos over the flat of his abdomen, thinking of the tiny spark of life encased behind layers of protoform and armor. “I am about two and a half decacycles along.”

Wheeljack took his helm into both of his servos and immediately kissed him, only slightly surprising Ultra before he wound his arms around Wheeljack and pulled him in. When he probed at Wheeljack’s field with his own and let them mingle, he found a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and love that he’d never quite felt from the other mech before.

Ultra pulsed all that back in much greater quantities, chuckling quietly as Wheeljack pressed further in and his winglets fluttered.

“We’re gonna be creators,” Wheeljack whispered excitedly, his sun-patterned optics glowing brilliantly. He pressed his helm crest to Ultra’s, and Ultra’s spark fluttered and melted at the smile that was on his smaller mate’s faceplates.

This time Ultra was the one to give Wheeljack a light peck on his lipplates. “No. We already are.”

.-.-.

Wheeljack could tell that he was getting on Ultra’s last neural line, but what more could he do to make sure that both his sparkmate and the sparkling he was carrying were fine.

“Wheeljack,” Ultra said, tone of his voice laced with a warning, “I do not need you to carry me to my appointment with Ratchet.”

“I’ve done it before chief, you’re not _that_ heavy.”

“That is not even within my realm of concern. You’re overdoing this, and I am capable of standing and walking perfectly well. I need you to be more logical.”

Winglets twitching, Wheeljack then sighed and brought Ultra down for a kiss, holding his helm in his servos as if it were the most precious thing in existence. “Sorry. Just a bit nervous is all.”

The intense blue of Ultra’s optics dimmed and he gave a brief nod. “I understand. I am nervous as well.” He brought a servo up to the ones that Wheeljack had placed on him and lightly squeezed them before gently tugging them away. “But there is no need to perform these excessive acts, Wheeljack. Being sparked has not made me invalid, and I do not want to be treated as one.”

If there was anything that Wheeljack loved about Ultra, other than the gorgeous design of his frame and the bright blue of his optics, it was how self-reliant, stubborn, and intelligent he was. He reached out and held onto one of Ultra’s servos, bringing it to his lipplates and placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Alright. But tell me when you need somethin’, please.”

Ultra nodded, and then did something that Wheeljack questioned in the back of his processor - picked the smaller mech up and kissed him, a move that felt entirely out of character. He smirked and pressed into the kiss, dangling his legs slightly above the ground.

“Primus, you’re so perfect,” Wheeljack whispered as he pulled back from the kiss. “To think we hated each other.”

Ultra gave an uncharacteristic, derisive snort. “You were the one that hated me when I was given command of the Wreckers. I simply found you to be-”

“Irritating?” Wheeljack interrupted with a smirk.

Ultra stared at him a moment, and then gave a minute nod. “Among other things.”

Wheeljack bunted his helm against Ultra’s. “An’ look at us now.”

.-.-.

“This one is taking after you in more ways than one.”

Wheeljack arched an optic ridge and stretched out next to his sparkmate, his sparkmate that was half-sitting on the berth, back against the wall with a datapad in his servos. Ultra’s faceplates were as stoic as ever, but the irritation in his optics was incredibly evident.

“How?” Wheeljack asked cheekily.

Ultra paused and then set the datapad on the gentle swell of his midsection. Another brief pause later, and then the datapad flipped off and on top of Wheeljack’s legs.

“Much like you, they enjoy sticking their limbs in every part of my frame. Except this is more aggravating,” Ultra pressed his servo against the part where his chassis and his midsection met and frowned, “because they are inside and not outside.”

“That’s a good thing, chief. You like to kick me off the berth if I start kickin’ you.”

“I’m not so callous as to kick my own sparkling off. However, I will absolutely not hesitate to pick them up and cart them back to their own berth.”

Wheeljack waggled an optical ridge and pressed himself into Ultra’s side. “Nah you won’t Mags. They’ll just need to look at you with their big optics,” he made his best example of a pout and widened his optics ever so slightly, “an’ you’ll melt.”

For a solid klik, Ultra stared at him, and then he slowly raised his servo and covered Wheeljack’s face with it. “Please stop. It may work on our bitlet, but it does not work on you.”

Wheeljack twitched one of his winglets and pulled his face away, smirking. “Fine. But I know you. I’ll start gettin’ kicked off the berth to make room for our bitlet.”

From the look in the other mech’s optics, Wheeljack knew very well that he’d been on target. He simply chuckled and leaned up, kissing Ultra on his lipplates. He felt around with one servo and grabbed the datapad that had fallen between them and slipped it onto the nearest berthside table before cupping his very pregnant sparkmate’s faceplates and deepening the kiss.

Ultra’s vents kicked open and blasted warmer-than-usual air at him, and Wheeljack swiped his thumbs over them and chuckled. “Doesn’t take much to get you goin’ now.”

His sparkmate’s electromagnetic field wavered, and Ultra frowned against Wheeljack’s lipplates, breaking contact slightly with only a bit of distance between them. “I’d like to see how you would handle carrying and the emotional and physical tolls it would take on you.”

“Nah,” Wheeljack said as he trailed his digits down Ultra’s frame and cupped the swell of his middle that held their growing sparkling. “I wouldn’ look half as pretty as you do like this.”

Ultra huffed and clenched his servos into fists. “Well, I’m glad that someone at least finds this entire situation attractive.”

Wheeljack bunted his helm against Ultra’s as his servo reached the quickly-warming span of blue pelvic plating. “Everythin’ you do is attractive as Pit, Mags.”

He loved how flustered his mate got.

.-.-.

“Wrecker.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good designation Mags! Our bitlet wouldn’ exist if it weren’t for the Wreckers!”

“I said no and that is my final verdict.”

“ _Fine._ What about Windbreaker?”

“I don’t anticipate that our sparkling will be a seeker. Windbreaker doesn’t seem to fit them.”

“You said that ‘bout Kicker, that fits the bit pretty well.”

“So does the term flipper, but I don’t intend on even considering that designation.”

“Okay, _then what do you want_ to name our bitlet? Thrown everything I can at you, and you’ve shot ‘em all down.”

“I’ve turned them all down because they are too simplistic and unbecoming.”

“You’re simplistic and unbecomin’.”

“Continue with that, and I will make you sleep outside in the soil beds among the flora.”

“Fine! Okay, what names did you think of?”

“I enjoy names from mythology. I’ve considered Solus and Enigmous, perhaps Alchemist. Though if they do not grow up to have anything to do with the sciences, it may not be the best designation for them.”

“Alchemist’s a good designation. Like Solus too. Any others you thought of?”

“There are some datapads I acquired with Earth’s mythological deities. I am still perusing through them. Incidentally, I learned that my designation translates directly into words from one of Earth’s languages.”

“Huh, really? What’s your name on Earth mean then?”

“Believe it or not, “more big.””

“...let’s not name our bitlet anythin’ like that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

.-.-.

Oh, how he wanted to scream at Wheeljack and ask him how in the Pit he’d managed to get him to agree to this, to this entire ordeal of spasming pain and his frame undergoing incredible feats of shifting and stretching to get this little thing out. The bitlet inched towards the end, but in a much slower pace than what Ultra would have liked.

He curled into his side and yanked Wheeljack’s arm almost out of its socket, gasping as he bore down as much as his frame let him, feeling every inch of the sparkling slipping out of him.

“Help me get the shoulders out Magnus,” Ratchet said from between his legs, his optics bright. “You’re almost done.”

Those three words were what Ultra decided to focus and hold onto, and he let out a strangled yell as the sparkling left his frame, finally. He gasped as the wet newspark was pushed against his chestplates, winding an arm around the squirming bitlet as he almost crushed Wheeljack’s servo with his own. He felt the other mech’s digits dig into crevices of his armor, felt the shock and awe in his electromagnetic field.

A blur of pristine white with orange accents swooped into his field of vision, a blur that his subconscious realized was the medic. Ratchet cleaned the bitlet’s intakes, and a moment later the sparkling opened its mouth and emitted a loud and strong wail.

It was that instant that Wheeljack’s energy field stilled, and then Ultra heard the other mech begin to sob. He was quick to join in, a broad smile breaking out across his faceplates as his frame shook with intense emotion, stroking his digits over the squirming little bitlet - a femme, Ratchet proclaimed happily.

“Primus we waited so long for that cry,” the smaller-statured Wrecker managed to choke out, his scratched and rough digits stroking the little femme’s face. “She’s so perfect, Mags. She’s perfect.”

And she was. Ultra would hold his blaster to the helm of anyone that tried to tell him otherwise. She continued to wail, her electromagnetic field pulsating with confusion about the strange and open and _cold_ world that she’d been thrust into, and anger because how badly she wanted to return to the warmth of her carrier.

Ultra kissed the top of her helm and didn’t hold back when he enveloped her in his own electromagnetic field, starting to sob as well when her cries ceased and she looked at him in wonderment.

“Hello there. We’ve waited so long to meet you.”

Her optics seemed to say back, _I’ve waited to meet you too._

.-.-.

They were both amazing.

That was the only thing that Wheeljack could think of as he looked at the large form of his sparkmate holding onto the small form of the sparkling that they had created together. The small smile on Ultra’s faceplates as he stared down at the tiny, newly emerged sparkling cuddled against his chassis, with her small servos curled up and resting on her own chassis.

Wheeljack reached his servo out to stroke the little bitlet’s faceplates, and felt his spark melt into a puddle of spilled energon when she stirred, scrunched up her face, and blearily opened her optics to stare at him.

Her optics were just like his, star-patterned and all.

She stared at him for a few moments, before she rolled her optics slightly and then closed them, snuggling closer to her carrier’s chassis.

“How are you feelin’ Mags?”

Ultra finally looked at him, optics and faceplates clearly as exhausted as the rest of his frame. He gave him a wan smile that while clearly costing most of his leftover energy, actually reached his optics. “As horrible as I did when we did battle with the Predacon.”

Ah yes. That moment. Wheeljack pressed his forehelm against Ultra’s and brought the same servo he’d used to stroke the femme’s faceplates to rest against the side of Ultra’s helm. “It was that bad?”

“It is up there in the pain scale. After all I did push this,” he moved his arm that held a greater chunk of the bitlet, “out of my frame through something that is not the same size that she is.”

The phrasing and the blunt way that Ultra had put it made Wheeljack have to stifle a laugh, lest Ultra decide to gift him with a whap upside the helm. He chose to kiss Ultra instead and smiled, his engine purring softly.

“Did you name her already?”

“I do have one in processor. And, I do not care if you dislike it, because I was the one that had to deal with her all this time, so I get the honors.”

One of his winglets flicked in amusement. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. So, what’s the name?”

Ultra ran a digit along one of the bitlet’s antennae. “One night cycle when you were out with Bulkhead and Smokescreen, I began reading a list of designations that I liked, and told her that the first one that received a kick would be her name. It did not take much time for her to settle on Athena.”

Wheeljack looked back at the sparkling, the chubby little newspark that had so stolen both their sparks the moment she had come into existence. Her optics fluttered under their covers, and her servos relaxed and then curled into fists again.

Athena.

It fit her. Somehow. He would have to remember to ask Ultra later on what the name meant on Earth, because of course it had to be a name from there, but somehow even without prior knowledge the name was absolutely perfect.

“Hey ‘thena,” he whispered, prodding at one of her little fists with one of his rough, scratchy digits. As if on instinct she opened that one servo and curled her digits around it, barely able to wrap her digits entirely around it, she was so small. “You don’ understand us now, but that’s okay. We’re gonna do everythin’ we can to protect you, make sure you know you’re the most loved bitlet to ever exist on Cybertron.”

Ultra smiled and leaned over, pressing his lipplates to Wheeljack’s own very briefly. The smaller-statured mech stroked Ultra’s helm while contact was held, and then when they broke it, Wheeljack stared into Ultra’s optics, keeping his servo on Ultra’s helm

“Thank you,” Wheeljack said quietly.

“For?” Ultra asked, half-confused in the after-emergence haze.

Wheeljack chuckled. “For not just humorin’ me. Actually givin’ us a sparklin’, when you didn’t have to.” He reached down and rubbed circles on the back of one of Ultra’s servos with the pad of thumb, both of them looking down at the bitlet curled against the broad, blue chassis. “You’re gonna be such a great carrier to her.”

In his peripherals, Wheeljack saw Ultra beam proudly.

Athena chirped in her sleep and yawned.


End file.
